The Pain Subsides
by singtothedarksideofthemoon
Summary: One shot, for now. Hermione loves Ron, but he doesn't see.


Hermione just couldn't deal with it anymore. For six years she had followed Ron and Harry around, being the best friend either of them had ever had. They were such good friends too, granted, they fought constantly, but she had always merely chalked it up to differences in personality. It wasn't until fourth year that Hermione began to realize her feelings for her red-headed friend. Ron had showed blatent displeasure towards her choice of date, Victor Krum. "The enemy" as Ron had called him. After fighting with him and sending him off to bed, Hermione had thought Ron's hostile nature was just a result of him being a prat. However, later on, as Hermione cried over her ruined night in the safety of her dorm room, she realized something. She realized she loved the stupid git. She let the possibility that Ron may have had been so angry because he was jealous sink into her head. Thus, her love for Ronald Billius Weasley was born. The next two years were filled with a secret longing and screaming matches. After her revelation, Hermione went on, business as usual, pining over her friend from afar. And as the two friends escaped from threat after threat over the next years, Hermione felt her love for him grow and grow.

But her feelings for Ron could be quite painful at times. Fifth year came and went, and she watched him stumble about as he always did. When they weren't fighting (which was a rare occurrance in itself) Ron would seem to ignore her. It had seemed to her that the boy had lost any interest in her, platonic or otherwise. This was a pain that Hermione had never felt before. She had always felt loved, wanted, needed, but things were different now. Ron was ignoring her, and Harry had his own problems to deal with. Not that he didn't try, bless him, he always tried his hardest to be there for his friend. She knew Harry was under constant pressure and scrutiny, being the Boy Who Lived took quite a toll on him.

She wondered why Ron never payed attention to her unless they were fighting or he needed something from her. Sometimes he seemed to downright ignore her. She would call out to him and he'd walk away. She didn't know if he honestly didn't hear her, or just didn't want to speak to her. Those occasions hurt the most of all. Hermione wondered what was wrong with herf. Granted, she admitted that she wasn't exactly spectacular looking, but she had never considered herself to be ugly. She just wasn't pretty enough for Ron.

It was fifth year when she realized to what extent she felt for Ron. It was when they were in the Ministry of Magic, fighting the Death Eaters. She didn't know where he was. She worried for Harry too, but knew Harry could take care of himself. Ron, she needed to protect. Ron she needed to find. Ron she needed. It was then when she realized she loved him. Completely and totally. And a part of her realized that this was nothing new, she had loved him for years, and just hadn't admitted it. So as sixth year began, she tried to make her feelings known. But he continued to ignore her. She began to feel hopeless.

Hermione had started her little _habit_ back in fourth year, before she realized her feelings for Ron. It was the day when Harry and Ron had come to her, desperate for a date to the Yule Ball, assuming she didn't have a date. The fact that they had not until now realized she was a girl hurt. She knew she wasn't girly, frill and ribbons had never been her thing. Hermione had always preferred to read rather than doll herself up. But damnit, she had been wearing a skirt all these years. She couldn't believe those two had been so thick as to think she was too repulsive not to have gotten a date. So after telling them off, she ran for her dormitory. Everything sort of came to a head right then. Everything, every pain she had been holding back, every insecurity and fear came rushing back to her. She was feeling so much, and it was making her sick. She didn't know what to do, she was scared and alone. She happened to glance down at her trunk and spotted the spare potions knife she had purchased over the summer, unable to find hers. When she finally did find hers while packing for school, she placed the new one in her trunk, for emergency use. She considered this to be an emergency. She pushed back the sleeve of her left arm and gently placed the blade on the underside of her upper arm. She applied pressure and watched as blood began to seep its way to the surface. She felt pain in her arm, and felt the pain in her heart subside. She pulled out her first aid kit and bandaged her arm. She could have simply healed herself, but she wanted to feel the lingering sting, keeping her heartache at bay.

Now in sixth year, and she had not broken her habit. Whenever she was upset or lonely, or felt anything that was too strong for her liking, she found herself making marks on her arms. As time went on, she began to scar. She could have removed them magically, but she preferred to leave them there, a reminder of all her imperfections.

As the year had gone on, she had found herself becoming more and more depressed. She began relying on her knife more often, to the point that she even began to frighten herself. But she would never ask for help, she would never admit that she was that far gone. No one would understand, or care even. She simply had to persevere on her own. She was good at hiding her emotions, no one ever truly knew when something was wrong.

But seeing Ron snog Lavender Brown had been quite enough. Because by then, she had made her feelings for him obviously known. Everyone knew it, hell, he probably even knew it. After seeing them kiss, she fled, finding an empty classroom. She pulled her knife out of her pocket, she had taken to carrying it everywhere, just in case. Finding a corning that was dark and out of the way, where even if someone walked into the room, they wouldn't see where she was, she took off her sweater, leving her in just a tank top. And she began her attack on herself, slicing lines up and down her arm. When she still felt the pain, she took her knife to her other arm as well.

She looked down to her arms and dropped her knife. And she cried. She cried and cried. Cried for her arms, cried for Ron, cried for love. Cried for her pathetic life, spent pining after her best friend who seeemed to want nothing to do with her. Cried for her pain, and her hoplessness, and how she had let it consume her. She couldn't even feel the pain in her arms anymore, the pain in her heart had swelled to twice its usual intensity. There she was, alone, again.

"Hermione?" She could hear someone calling her name out in the hallway. She pushed herself further into the shadows, hoping that whoever was outside would leave.

"Hermione are you in there?" Her heart began to thud erraticly. The thought of someone finding her in her current state was unbearable, because it would mean having to admit her brokenness. Something that she would never do.

"Hermione, that is you, what are you doing?" She lifted her head to see Harry step into the classroom.

"Please go away Harry, I'd really just like to be alone right now" she whispered, pleading silently for him to leave. But she should have known better. Harry stepped closer to her, until finallly he was enveloped in the shadows with her. In the dark, he couldn't see her arms, and she hoped she'd be able to get rid of him before she had to step into the light.

But Harry had other plans. Realizing Hermione was trying to hide something, he took out his wand.

"Lumos." Light began to glow in the small corner, her hiding place. He looked down at her, taking in her tear stained face and red eyes. But that's not what caught his attention. Harry gasped in disbelief. Her arms were covered in red, angry lines, some still bleeding. One glance at the flash of silver on the floor told him exactly what she had been doing.

"Hermione! Wha-wh-why?" Hermione looked up at him, and saw the deep concern in his eyes. And she began to cry again. The tears pouring down her face in droves. He must be disappointed in her. After all, she was perfect Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter and the brightest witch of her age. There could be nothing wrong with her. She turned her head from him in shame, not wanting him to see the fresh tears in her eyes.

"Go away Harry, please"

"No, Hermione. I will not go away. Not until you tell me what is hurting you so much that you'd have to do this to yourself." She couldn't even look at him, embarassed. He would think her weak if he knew her reasons. If he knew exactly why she sat here bleeding in the dark, he would think less of her.

Harry knelt down nest to her and took out his wand. Carefully, he healed the cuts on her arms, leaving scars, bright lines against her pale skin, in their place.

"Oi, Lav, there shouldn't be anyone in here." The door burst open and Ron accompanied by a giggly Lavender Brown stumbled into the room. Ron looked over to where Harry and Hermione sat, staring at him. He took in their close proximity and shook his head.

"Never mind this rooms taken." Lavender giggled again and pulled him out of the room. Before he was out the door he turned again to face his two friends, who still sat staring at him. He swore he could see red lines on Hermione's arms, which were still outstretched in front of her. But he disregarded this as Lavender tugged him out of the room.

When he was safely out the door, Hermione began to cry again. She buried her face in Harry's chest and wept. He pulled his arms around her and held her, finally understanding. He understood that what was bringing his best friend pain so intense that she had to harm herself to find relief, was his other best friend. And for once in his life, there was not a thing that he could do about it.


End file.
